


Up In Flames

by moonix



Series: TFC High School AU [4]
Category: All For The Game - Nora Sakavic
Genre: Alternate Universe, Fluff, Found Family, Friendship, M/M, Recovery, The happy ending they deserve lbh, twinyards
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-27
Updated: 2018-10-27
Packaged: 2019-08-08 12:29:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 10,842
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16429418
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/moonix/pseuds/moonix
Summary: Neil keeps his promise.





	1. our past is going up in flames

**Author's Note:**

> Phew, what a ride! I'm happy to finally put this story to rest, and I hope you all enjoy the last part of Neil and Andrew's journey! Thank you to everyone who left comments and kudos or reblogged this, and thanks again to my super speedy beta Alex (petalplate) who helped me fix some issues.
> 
> Title and chapter titles from the song Up In Flames by Years and Years.
> 
> Warnings for this part: references to suicide/suicidal tendencies and mental health struggles (but ultimately this part's all about healing!)

When Aaron opens the door, Neil is both disappointed and relieved.

He stands on the steps, bag in hand and heart in his throat, and waits until Aaron is done staring at him and shuffles aside to let him in. There’s no question that it is Aaron and not Andrew—Neil would have been able to tell even if Aaron wasn’t wearing a crumpled white University of South Carolina t-shirt and no armbands. Neil follows him into the kitchen and looks around, barely recognising it from their days of squatting in the house over two years ago.

The shades are half-drawn against a burst of spring sunshine, the slats painting zebra stripes of light and shade over the polished wood of the kitchen table. Some pots of herbs perch on the window sill, looking a little worse for wear, like recently plucked chickens. There’s a popcorn machine sitting on the counter like it’s the most normal thing in the world. Aaron leans against a humming fridge covered in a poster of the periodic table of elements and crosses his arms in front of his chest.

“You look well,” Neil says, because he does. His eyes are no longer red and bloodshot, his body is less gaunt and his posture has improved. His arms are bare of bruises and his clothes actually fit him.

“You look fucked up,” Aaron tells him bluntly, flicking his fingers at his face. Neil resists the urge to trace the scars there and looks around.

“Is he home?”

The house is quiet, but his eyes still stray upwards to their old bedroom as if Andrew will materialise out of thin air any moment now.

“No,” Aaron says.

“How much does he hate me?” Neil asks casually, his hand tightening on the strap of his bag.

Aaron huffs through his nose and looks at the black and white tiled floor. A few stray dishes are piled up by the sink, and Neil has a sudden craving for warmed-up chocolate milk. He’s tired as hell from the flight, and the only thing he’s had to eat since his last layover was a stale sandwich at the airport before he came straight here.

“Hard to tell,” Aaron says slowly. “Half the time I think he really does hate you, but the other half…”

“The other half?” Neil prompts hopefully.

Aaron pushes away from the fridge and gestures for him to follow. They walk past a fully furnished living room with a large TV and Matt’s old beanbag chairs, up the creaking stairs and to the room that Andrew and Neil used to sleep in. Aaron opens the door and steps aside.

“I wanted to turn it into a study, but he refused.”

There’s not much in the room, but Neil instantly recognises everything inside it. There’s the bed he bought at Ikea with Matt, with the same lumpy pillows and the sheets with the geometric pattern. The ghost chilli plant Andrew gave him for Christmas sits on the window sill and his old duffel bag is perched at the foot of the mattress, guarded by a stuffed panda that’s missing an ear. Allison’s old string of Christmas lights is draped over the headboard, their old camping gear is packed away in a corner, and some of Neil’s clothes sit on top of the chair they borrowed from Matt and evidently never returned. There’s an indent on the bed next to the duffel bag, as if someone’s recently sat there.

“It’s his _shrine_ ,” Aaron mocks. “He comes here to mope. Mostly the cat sleeps in it though.”

Neil’s chest constricts painfully.

“Cat?”

“Oh, yeah,” Aaron says. “Her name’s Popcorn. She’s probably around. You’ll have to share the room with her, she gets really possessive. She and Andrew have that in common.”

Neil picks up the stuffed panda and strokes his fingers over his mangled ear. He can’t quite bring himself to open his old duffel bag, but he sets his new bag down beside it.

“I’m crashing with a friend,” he says absently, staring at the two bags side by side.

“Matt?” Aaron guesses.

“No. Someone else.”

Aaron shrugs, tapping his fingers against the doorframe.

“Doesn’t change the fact that it’s your room. Though if you don’t want it, I really will turn it into a study.”

The sound of the front door opening has them both pausing. Neil takes his bag back and makes for the stairs, and for a moment he and Aaron wrestle silently in the doorway over who gets to go down first. Aaron wins, because Neil hears Andrew’s voice and everything in him goes slack, like a puppet with the strings cut off. He’s been on autopilot for the last two years and it only just hit him that he’s finally _home_.

“I would have won the last round if you hadn’t cheated,” Andrew is saying to a girl with dyed hair and shoulders about as wide as Andrew’s own. He has his back to the stairs, but Neil can see that he’s _fit_ , and he’s wearing a black leather jacket with a roaring tiger stitched on the back, wreathed in flowers and flames. A packet of cigarettes sticks out of the back pocket of his tight grey jeans and where Neil was already in a semi-liquid state before, he’s evaporating now. There might as well be steam coming out of his ears.

The girl looks up when she sees movement on the landing and catches his eye, smiling knowingly.

“Hello, Neil, welcome back. I wasn’t expecting you until tomorrow.”

Andrew’s whole body jerks once, then goes rigid. He doesn’t turn around, and Neil finds himself rooted to the spot, like he’s not allowed to step off the landing until Andrew looks at him.

“Hello, Renee,” he mumbles. Aaron shoots him a confused glance.

“You two know each other?”

“We’re friends,” Neil says numbly. “Of a sort.”

Renee beams at him for that and Neil squirms uncomfortably. Seconds slip by, swollen with the weight of unshed questions. Renee is the only one who seems perfectly content to be where she is, her pastel pink gym bag dangling off her shoulder and her rainbow platform shoes still on her feet.

Aaron breaks first. He sighs exasperatedly, throws his hands up and pushes past Andrew into the kitchen. Andrew gets jostled sideways and finally, finally looks up at Neil.

The world narrows down to the two of them. Neil’s feet trip themselves down the last set of stairs until he’s standing in front of Andrew. He’s lost his bag somewhere and he feels paperthin and stretched to burst, seams creaking under the strain of holding everything inside for just a few minutes longer.

“Andrew,” he breathes.

Andrew takes him in—the blue eyes, the auburn hair, the ugly scars, the new clothes courtesy of Uncle Stuart—and steps toward him, then around him.

It’s like being doused in ice-cold water and it _hurts_ , and Neil calls his name again just to make the pain stop, but Andrew keeps calmly walking up the stairs. A door slams, and then Neil is alone in the hall. The sounds of Aaron and Renee making coffee filter out of the kitchen, muted conversation and the clatter of someone doing the dishes, and Neil sucks in a rough approximation of a deep breath and picks up his bag.

+

Andrew doesn’t venture out of his room again until Aaron bangs on the door and informs him that Neil has left and there’s dinner downstairs.

He finds Aaron in the kitchen with Renee still there and Popcorn curled up in Renee’s lap. They’ve made mac and cheese and Andrew hates them for it, because he knows they know it’s become his comfort food ever since Neil left. He sits down anyway, unable to resist the bright orange siren call, and Popcorn greets him with a yawn and switches over to his lap.

“So,” Aaron says inexorably once Andrew is on cat-induced lockdown, “Neil’s back, then.”

Andrew grunts and shovels pasta in his mouth.

“It’s understandable if you need some time to adjust,” Renee tells him. She knows the whole sorry story, because Andrew told her over too much whisky and chocolate cake and because Aaron still thinks someone needs to watch Andrew when he’s not there. Or maybe she knows the story because she knows _Neil_ —and isn’t that an interesting new development.

Andrew can’t spit out the words yet, so he settles for shooting her a glare that says, “Traitor.” She takes it with a gracious nod of her head.

“How come you know him, anyway?” Aaron asks, seemingly thinking along the same lines. Renee mulls this over, folding her hands daintily in her lap.

“I think you should ask Neil about that,” she says at last, with an apologetic glance to Andrew. “In fact, there are several things he can probably clear up for you. Even if you aren’t sure yet whether you want him back in your life at this point, I think you should give him the chance to explain when you’re ready.”

Aaron sighs and stretches in his chair.

“This is what happens when you date the son of a mob boss,” he tells Andrew, as he’s told him many times before. “Anyway, I have a lab report to write. Bye, Renee, I’m glad someone is beating the crap out of this miserly asshole so I don’t have to.”

“You’re welcome,” Renee pipes cheerfully. “Good luck with your lab report.”

Aaron waves his fingers at her and goes upstairs to bury himself in his books. Renee collects their empty plates while Andrew warms up some milk for hot chocolate, a familiar routine. He and Aaron rented out their spare room to her for a while last year, until she found an apartment not far away, but she still comes over for at least one meal a day. She calls it quality time with her best friends. Andrew calls it suicide watch.

“Do you want me to stay over tonight?” she asks him as he hands over her mug, the one with the rainbows on it. Andrew snorts and nudges Popcorn off his chair with his foot, much to her displeasure.

“I am not going to kill myself,” he tells her. “But if I wanted to, I would find a way whether you’re here or not.”

“Try me,” Renee grins. They share a look over their hot chocolates. This conversation is one they’ve had many times before, in different variations, sometimes serious, sometimes not. The fact that Andrew can talk to her about it like they’re discussing the weather, on the good days as well as the bad, is worth more to him than he can put into words. Aaron, for all his fussing, always balks at the subject, and the only other person Andrew talks to on a regular basis is his therapist.

Bee has been slowly spacing out their appointments from twice a week to once a month. It’s progress, she says. Andrew isn’t so sure yet, but he’s willing to suspend his disbelief, because Bee is usually right.

“Here,” Renee says, and digs a slip of paper out of her pocket. “This is Neil’s number. In case you need it.”

She holds it out, and when Andrew doesn’t take it she puts it down on the table in front of him. Popcorn winds through her legs, idly protesting her boredom, before she trots over to the cat flap that Matt installed in their back door and disappears outside.

“I don’t need him,” Andrew says, and regrets it immediately when Renee’s mouth curls into a smile.

“Maybe not,” she allows. “But he kept his promise, didn’t he? He came back for you.”

“You mean he’s not here to visit Aaron?” Andrew deadpans, flicking his fingers at the piece of paper.

“Who’d want to visit Aaron?” Renee jokes, miming a shudder. “Exams are coming up. Not even his own girlfriend wants to be around him right now.”

“Not to mention his ugly face.”

“And his terrible table manners.”

“His fashion sense,” Andrew laments. “Or lack thereof.”

“And all that garlic bread he ate last night,” Renee agrees. “It must be such a terrible burden, having him as a brother.”

“You have no idea,” Andrew sighs and drains the last of his hot chocolate. “Want to borrow my bike?”

“If you don’t mind. Are we still on for Sweetie’s on Friday?”

Andrew nods and accompanies her outside, where Popcorn is sniffing around one of the frogs that have popped up in the garden ever since Aaron dug that pathetic little pond. They never got around to putting fish in it, but the frogs seem to like it. Popcorn is undecided if she approves of the frogs or not—Andrew fervently hopes she won’t start hunting them and depositing them on his pillow at night, like she did with that huge spider once.

He watches the little dot of the bike’s back light until Renee turns the corner at the end of the street. The paper with Neil’s number is crumpled up in his hand, tacky with sweat, and he shoves it in his pocket and goes inside to get ready for his shift at Eden’s.

+

Neil goes to Matt’s next. He’s ready to just keel over on the nearest park bench and sleep for a week, but he needs to do this first; he owes it to Matt. Clutching his old keys in his hand so hard they leave indents, he rings the doorbell and waits. As usual, Matt buzzes him up immediately without even asking who it is. Neil grits his teeth against the carelessness and takes the stairs two steps at a time.

He hears Matt’s voice, laughing and talking to someone, and a dog barking excitedly. The scars on his hands and arms burn dully at the sound and he quickens his pace, until he’s standing in the corridor and Matt turns mid-laugh and freezes when he sees him.

“Holy shit,” he whispers. “Did I smoke too much weed? Am I hallucinating?”

Something small and grey and lopsided shots out from behind his feet and starts slobbering all over Neil’s shoes, yipping and whining excitedly. He’s missing a paw though it doesn’t seem to deter him, and judging by the wagging tail, Sugar at least is happy to see Neil, never mind that Neil is indirectly responsible for the loss of that paw.

“Hey, buddy,” Neil mutters, bending down to let Sugar lick his hand. “Christ, Matt, I’m so sor—”

Before he can finish, he’s scooped up in a bear hug tight enough to bruise. His voice cuts off in a wheeze, and by the time Matt lets him go Neil can see that his face is wet.

“Holy shit,” Matt says again, still holding on to his shoulders. “I can’t believe you’re back, we thought you were _dead_.”

“Um,” Neil says uncomfortably, not wanting to reveal just how close he’d been. “Well, I’m not. I—will you let me explain? I feel like I owe you that at least.”

“Yes, of course, dude, totally. We couldn’t really get much out of Andrew… Come on, there’s pizza and some grape soda with your name on it. Wait—is it Noel or Neil or what?”

“Just Neil.”

“Okay, Neil,” Matt grins. “Wait until Dan sees you.”

Dan is in the living room with a face mask on, but she still pulls him into a bone-crushing hug the moment she lays eyes on him. Neil stumbles over awkward apologies again and Dan tells him to zip it until after the pizza. Then she calls Allison, who arrives twenty minutes later laden down with wine and several boxes of fancy cream puffs and macarons from a French bakery. She doesn’t hug Neil, but it’s close. Neil is forced to eat almost an entire pizza by himself before they let him get a word in edge-wise, and it’s overwhelming but also a relief, because that means he won’t have to tell his story three times over.

By the time he’s done, his throat feels raw and Dan’s scented candles have burnt down considerably. Allison is smoking out of the open kitchen window, Sugar’s fallen asleep in Matt’s lap and Dan is draining the last slug of wine in the bottle.

“That’s one hell of a story,” she says, shaking her head. “But it’s all taken care of now? You’re free to stay?”

“I’m free to stay,” Neil confirms, his voice not quite cracking but chipping at the edges. “I have the official paperwork and everything, and a place at the university in the fall if I want it.”

Matt and Dan share a quick look.

“What about Andrew?” Matt asks.

Neil thinks about Andrew walking past him without so much as a word and swallows painfully.

“I’m working on it,” he mumbles. Beside him, Allison blows out a stream of smoke into the night, stubs out the cigarette on the ashtray balanced precariously on the window sill, and twists around to pat his hand.

“He’ll come round,” she tells him with her smoky, lilting voice. “Let me take you shopping, all you need is a decent pair of skinny jeans and he’ll take you back in no time.”

“Pass,” Neil says, then, belatedly: “Thanks, though.”

Allison shrugs, her elbow balanced on her knee. Her clothes are so silky and elegant that Neil hasn’t realised before, but now that he’s looking at them he wonders if she actually came over in her pyjamas.

“How’s things with Seth?” he asks her, just to disturb the silence that has settled over the table like cobwebs.

“Dumped him,” Allison says breezily.

“For real?”

“That’s what she says,” Dan says slyly, picking at a leftover pizza crust. “There’s bets going on, do you want in?”

Neil stifles a yawn in his fist.

“To be honest, what I want most right now is to sleep.”

+

Sweetie’s is quiet around mid-morning, after the breakfast rush is over but before the lunch rush begins. Andrew hasn’t slept much, despite how exhausted he was after his shift, and everything feels slow and muted like his head is packed in cotton wool. Renee steers them to their usual table in the corner by the window and orders breakfast for both of them while Andrew remains firmly behind his sunglasses and slumps against the cracked leather seat.

Neil’s been in town for five days, but Andrew hasn’t called him yet.

“How much longer are you going to agonise over this?” Renee asks him.

“I’m not agonising.”

Renee makes a disbelieving noise and takes a sip of her jasmine tea. Their breakfast arrives and Andrew cuts his pancakes into small, neat squares, swiping them in the syrup before he sticks them in his mouth. Renee leaves him be—it’s their breakfast rule, no nagging over food. Clouds stain the sky outside like a tablecloth washed too many times. There’s no rain yet, but there probably will be later.

Once the pancakes are gone, Renee clears her throat and pointedly looks to the counter where their waitress is preparing a fresh cup of tea for her. Another waiter stands behind her, working at the coffee machine, but it takes Andrew a moment to register the unfamiliar red hair and short build over the glaring neon colours of his uniform.

“Don’t be mad,” Renee says softly. “It was the only job I could find him at short notice.”

Andrew would glare at her, but moving his eyebrows hurts his head, and the effect would be dulled by his sunglasses anyway. He’s not so petty as to remove them just for that. Yet.

“Why was that your responsibility?” he asks instead, poking his spoon around the dregs of coffee and sugar at the bottom of his cup.

“Because he asked me to help and I said I would,” Renee says simply. It doesn’t answer any of the questions that have been burning underneath Andrew’s tongue like a morsel of spicy food and she knows it.

“Out of the goodness of your heart,” he mocks, but she doesn’t take the bait.

“Talk to him, Andrew. He’ll answer any questions you have.”

Neil chooses that moment to look over at their table and Andrew feels the electric shock of it travel down his spine. It’s weird to see him without hair dye, and the scars on his face make Andrew’s blood boil. Neil was supposed to come back _in one piece_. He was not supposed to get hurt in the process.

He turns away. Neil doesn’t try to talk to him and they finish their breakfast in silence. Andrew lets Renee ride on the back of his bicycle on the way home, where Aaron has successfully exploded an entire semester’s worth of notes and textbooks all over the living room. Aaron himself is sprawled out on the sofa and fast asleep with an uncapped highlighter clutched to his chest.

“He tries so hard,” Renee says sympathetically. “Should we let him sleep?”

Andrew shrugs and throws himself down in one of the beanbag chairs. He could use a nap too now that he thinks about it. Popcorn jumps down from her perch on the coffee table, stretches and finds her way into Andrew’s lap. Renee takes one look at them all and smiles.

“I’ll be in the garden, those strawberries look like they need some TLC,” she tells him. Her gardening tools have a permanent place in the shed—if it hadn’t been for her, the garden and the front yard would still be a rundown mess. Well, a rundown mess with a pond and some frogs.

Andrew settles down to sleep. He gets woken up a few hours later by Aaron’s cursing and relocates upstairs to the peace and quiet of his room, Popcorn on his heels. She claims the spot on his favourite pillow and he sighs and lets himself fall face-down onto his bed. Something crinkles audibly, and he reaches out to pull the piece of paper with Neil’s number from his pocket.

Maybe he should just get it over with.

He takes his phone and types a few aborted attempts at a message before setting on a simple ‘ _hey’_. Then he puts his phone away, firmly intending to sleep some more, but he realises Neil probably doesn’t have his current number, so he picks it up again to clarify and sees that Neil has already replied.

_‘andrew?’_

_‘yes_ ,’ Andrew types back. It takes a long while before Neil’s answer comes through this time, and when it does it’s just a timid ‘ _hi’_.

Andrew tries to think of something to say that isn’t a variation of “I need to see you so bad it hurts,” but his mind is blank and buzzing with static. The screen of his phone goes dark and he drops it, rolling on his side. Popcorn sighs when he runs his finger over her head and rubs her cheek against his wrist, where the beginnings of old scars are covered by his armband.

The little blue light on his phone indicates the arrival of a new message. Andrew grabs it and shuffles onto his back.

‘ _can we talk?_ ’

Andrew thinks about it, rolling onto his other side and then on his stomach again, much to Popcorn’s displeasure. He finally types ‘ _ok_ ’ and turns his phone off, shoving it under his pillows so it won’t tempt him again with the blinking blue light.


	2. the future can be rearranged

Neil is pacing outside Sweetie’s, smoking a frantic cigarette and trying to air out some of the smell of frying fat and sweat that clings to him after his shift. Half of him wishes he had enough time to go back to Renee’s for a shower and a change of clothes, but the other half of him doesn’t want to wait even five minutes longer, wants to see Andrew as soon as possible and tell him everything he needs to say.

Matt picks him up in his car and drives him to the twins’ house, and Neil cradles an overexcited Sugar in his lap and mulls over what to say, where to start, how to fix things between him and Andrew.

“Don’t worry,” Matt tells him as he parks outside the house. “I’m sure everything’s going to be fine.”

“Yeah,” Neil says thinly. “Thanks for the ride.”

“No problem, bud. Go get your man back.”

Waiting for someone to open the door is torture. Neil chews on his nails and walks little circles until he hears the click of the lock at last. He’s prepared for the sight of Andrew in the doorway, except he’s really not prepared, and the shock of it scrambles his speech.

Andrew leaves the door open and steps back into the kitchen where a microwave is beeping. Neil toes off his shoes in the hallway and nearly walks into Andrew as he exits the kitchen with two mugs of hot chocolate, one cheery yellow and one rainbow striped. He pushes the yellow one at Neil and keeps the rainbow one to himself, a bright contrast to his dark grey sweats and black shirt. Neil blinks and follows him up the stairs into their old room.

Andrew sits cross-legged on the bed and sips his hot chocolate, studying Neil. His eyes flick over the scars on his face and Neil resists the urge to hide them. He knows they’re still mostly covered up by the fancy cream that Uncle Stuart got him to make going out in public easier. It doesn’t erase them completely, but it makes things a bit less awkward at Sweetie’s when customers merely look curious rather than recoiling when Neil serves them.

“Talk,” Andrew demands. Neil can’t remember any of the things he prepared to say, but he pries his mouth open anyways and begins to pick at the threads of the story.

The short version goes like this: Neil kind of managed to get kidnapped twice, first by his father’s people and then by his uncle.

The longer version involves a decidedly un-fun road trip, several hours of torture, a dramatic shoot-out in his father’s basement, and being flown out of the States half-conscious and drugged up on painkillers. The aftermath; a whole lot of tedious back-and-forth with his uncle and later the FBI, and two gruelling years of dismantling his father’s empire stone by cursed stone, finally culminating in his father’s death in prison and the capture of DiMaccio. Lola and Romero are dead, several others of the inner circle behind bars, Stuart has finished various delicate negotiations and is back in the UK, and Neil’s finally been able to lay his mother’s spirit to rest.

There’s more he wants to tell Andrew, but by the time he’s finished with the bare bones of it the room is dark and Neil’s throat is starting to feel sore. He falls silent for a bit, exhausted and anxious, feeling the damp patch of cold sweat under his arms and down his back.

“Why didn’t you just call?” Andrew asks. His hands are still wrapped around the rainbow mug even though it’s been empty for a long while.

“I was scared,” Neil says miserably. “I didn’t want them to go after you. Everything was a mess, and… and to be honest, I don’t think I could have gone through with it all if I’d heard your voice. All you would have had to do was tell me to come back home and I would have.”

“Idiot,” Andrew growls. “You should have called.”

Neil feels a smile tug at the corners of his mouth. He’s not sure why—he still feels like shit, to be honest—but it’s there, unfurling inexorably. He tries to hide it behind his hand and Andrew reaches out, bridging the gap between them, and tugs his wrist away.

“You’re right,” Neil says. “I should have called.”

The space between them doesn’t feel so vast anymore, now that Andrew is touching him. Neil turns his hand over and sneaks his fingers between Andrew’s, linking them.

“What about Renee,” Andrew wants to know, but he doesn’t pull his hand away. Small victories, Neil thinks.

“Um,” Neil says sheepishly. “I… she… well.”

He thinks back to fighting over it with his uncle, hounding him for days until he finally dropped a stack of files in Neil’s lap with an irritated sigh and told him to pick someone. Years ago, Stuart had helped Renee start a new life; she still owed him a favour in return. Neil had met with her and decided she was the right person for what he wanted, because of her skills as much as her backstory.

“Yes?” Andrew prompts, frowning.

“I hired her,” Neil confesses. “As a sort of… bodyguard. For you and Aaron, and to keep an eye on Matt, Dan and Allison as well. I didn’t want to take any chances.”

Andrew stares at him for a moment, then says, “Of course you did,” with a big, gusty sigh and looks away.

Neil finds the switch for Allison’s old string lights and clicks it. Andrew looks unreal and ethereal, flecked with light and dark, deep shadows in the dips of his knuckles and eyebrows like a knife’s edge. Their fingers are still tangled up between them and Neil scoots a little closer, one inch at a time.

“I missed you,” tumbles out of his mouth, messy and raw. Andrew frowns harder and tries to tug his hand back, but Neil leaves his fingers hooked around Andrew’s so his arm merely follows Andrew’s pull.

“I like your new glasses,” Neil adds, because he does, and because he’s kind of run out of words otherwise but doesn’t want to stop talking to Andrew.

“Are you staying,” Andrew forces out between gritted teeth.

“Depends. Do you want me to?”

Andrew glares at him. Neil doesn’t blink—he’s gotten rather good at staring contests from those weeks he was locked up in Uncle Stuart’s house with no one but the bodyguards for company, and he grins when Andrew is the first one to break eye contact.

“Hey. Wanna make a new deal?”

“Only if the deal is don’t ever fucking leave,” Andrew snaps.

“How romantic,” Neil teases, slowly tugging Andrew’s hand back to his side of the bed. He thinks Andrew’s neck is looking a little flushed, but that might just be a trick of the lights.

+

“Oh, good, you’ve kissed and made up,” Aaron says blandly when Andrew and Neil emerge from Neil’s room in search of dinner, still holding hands. “Neil, this is Katelyn.”

“Hi, Neil,” Katelyn chirps where she’s sitting on the kitchen counter, merrily crunching on the vegetables that Aaron is cutting. “Andrew, come here, your glasses are filthy and it’s making my skin crawl.”

She snatches Andrew’s glasses off his nose and gets to work polishing them on the little cloth she’s started carrying around with her. Andrew ignores her, while Neil gives her an awkward nod and bends down to try and tempt the cat over instead.

Andrew steals some vegetables from Aaron’s cutting board too and throws himself down in a chair. Having Neil here again after all this time of missing him is almost painful, like the recoil of a gun, but Andrew can’t stop staring at him, touching him. Neil looks like a mess—stains on his shirt, dark circles under his eyes, hair all over the place—but despite the scars he’s still, if not more, handsome. Andrew regrets leaving the sanctuary of Neil’s room, but he’s also grateful for the reprieve. Neil is _too much_.

Katelyn tries to make chit-chat. Aaron is the only one who humours her, mainly because, for some unfathomable reason, Aaron doesn’t actually _mind_ her chit-chat. Andrew rolls his eyes and tilts his chair back, balancing on its hind legs. Neil comes out from underneath the table covered in cat hair, hits his head in the process and swears a bit. Spending two years in the UK has altered his accent and cadence slightly—just enough to be noticeable to someone with Andrew’s memory, not so much that it actually sticks out. It’s interesting. God damn Neil for still being interesting.

Andrew is going to have to tell Bee about his return next week. He hates Neil a little for that.

“I knew it!” Aaron exclaims, and Andrew tunes back into the stilted conversation. “I knew she was fake, she’s too nice for it to be genuine.”

“No, that bit isn’t fake, she really is that nice,” Neil says. “I was suspicious too, believe me.”

“I always liked Renee,” Katelyn shrugs, sipping at her water. “What does it matter if she was actually your bodyguard? You can be someone’s bodyguard _and_ their friend.”

“No you can’t,” Aaron snorts, “that’s a conflict of interest. Or a power imbalance, or something.”

“For what it’s worth, I told her she was free to go now, but she wants to stay here,” Neil says.

“See?” Katelyn says triumphantly. “Problem solved. Pass me the bread, please?”

_Please_. The word still makes Andrew’s skin crawl. He grits his teeth against it and is in the process of spearing a troublesome pea with his fork when he feels Neil’s hand brush against his under the table, hooking their pinkies together.

After dinner, Neil takes a shower and puts on some of his old clothes, another gut-punch déjà-vu. Then he walks around the house, inspecting all the work they’ve done on it and the new additions, nosing around every room and nook and cranny. He trails his fingers over a couple of photographs that Katelyn’s put up in the living room—Andrew and Aaron’s graduation, Popcorn wearing a silly hat and looking grumpy about it, the last picture Nicky sent from Germany, and Katelyn and Aaron all dressed up for prom.

“How was it?” Neil asks, tapping the picture frame. Andrew continues to smoke out of the window and says nothing, but Katelyn can’t keep her mouth shut.

“Oh, we didn’t actually end up going. We were on our way, but then we had to turn around, because…”

She looks embarrassed then, and Andrew rolls his eyes and huffs out smoke. If she’s going to bring up the topic, she should at least finish her sentence, not let it hang in the air like some big, ugly thing.

“Well,” she says tentatively, “because Andrew wasn’t feeling well. But it was fine in the end, wasn’t it? And I got to wear the dress again to my little sister’s prom the year after.”

Neil’s eyes flick to Andrew and back to the picture, but he doesn’t say anything before moving on. Andrew finishes his cigarette and leaves Aaron and Katelyn to their study session and Neil to his exploring and walks upstairs to his room.

When they met, Neil had been a bright spark in an otherwise dark universe. Nowadays Andrew has other things to live for—forty-six, to be exact; he and Bee maintain a list. It ranges from big stuff like getting Aaron through medical school to trivial things like the caramel popcorn sundae from Sweetie’s and wanting to see the next Star Wars movie when it comes out. The universe looks a little less dark these days, after copious amounts of therapy and hard work, but somehow Neil is still that same bright spot that Andrew uses to navigate his days.

He leaves his bedroom door open, a blatant invitation for stray cats and stupidly attractive runaway mob boss sons.

+

Matt insists on throwing a party for Neil. Dan and Allison get really into it too and the group chat that they added Neil to keeps blowing up with party planning discussions. He muted the chat after waking up to about a hundred missed messages one morning, but he checks back every once in a while. He never expected to be forgiven for putting them all in danger, let alone be accepted back so enthusiastically into their friendship group. It’s a little dizzying at times, but the good kind, he thinks.

“Will you come?” Neil asks Andrew when he’s on his break at Sweetie’s. Andrew is still squinty-eyed and sleepy from last night’s shift and Neil’s plied him with sweet coffee and bagels because he knows that Andrew is not a morning person, even though it’s technically lunch time by now.

Andrew shrugs and pokes his finger at some spilled sugar on the table.

“There’s free alcohol, right?”

“Is that a yes?”

“If I get the night off.”

Neil stifles a smile and gets him another refill of his coffee.

He’s still sleeping on Renee’s couch, even though the twins have made it clear that he can have the spare bedroom in their house whenever he wants. Neil isn’t sure if he’s just taking things slow or punishing himself—maybe both—but Renee doesn’t press.

She takes him to the gym on a rainy Wednesday morning when he doesn’t have the early shift, and he runs on the treadmill by the window, overlooking the surrounding buildings and the park. The prospect of getting to stay here for good is still an odd weight in his stomach, and he turns up the speed on the treadmill and tries to clear his mind of every conflicting thought.

“By the way, Eden’s Twilight is hiring again,” Renee tells him conspiratorially as they take a break. “Andrew’s working with security now, did he tell you?”

“No,” Neil says, surprised. He’d assumed Andrew was still in the kitchen, though he can picture him well in the black uniform of the bouncers, patrolling the floors and keeping a watchful eye on the patrons. It suits him.

The idea of going back to Eden’s to work with Andrew is tempting, but Neil’s only just managed to get his sleep schedule somewhat on track again. He doesn’t want to mess with that, and it’s not like he doesn’t see Andrew at Sweetie’s for breakfast every day, anyway.

“How else am I going to hold his attention than by making him ridiculous sundaes?” he jokes when Renee drops him off at the diner, handing back her spare helmet. Andrew still has the bicycle Neil gave him for Christmas, but Neil’s seen him eye Renee’s motorbike enough times to know that he wants one too. Maybe next Christmas, he thinks.

“You always hold his attention,” Renee tells him softly. Neil doesn’t know what to say to that, so he thanks her for the ride and makes a hasty retreat inside the diner.

The party is on Friday, and Neil is strangely reluctant about going. He’s taken a shower after work and put on some of the nicer clothes that Uncle Stuart got for him, a dark pair of jeans and a light grey sweater with sleeves long enough to pull down over his hands and cover most of his scars. The ones on his face are more or less hidden under a fresh layer of cream and his hair looks about as tidy as it gets, yet he still feels awkward and unsettled, like his skin is half a size too small for him today.

He ends up missing the bus and being late. The apartment is already crowded with people and Dan is paying a delivery guy for several boxes of pizza when he arrives, the savoury smell making his mouth water. Neil takes the boxes from her and carries them into the kitchen, where a group of very drunk girls is cooing over Sugar and one of them even seems to be crying about how small he is.

“Andrew’s been waiting for you,” Dan tells him conspiratorially. “And I think Allison’s flirting with Renee, is that a good idea?”

“Um,” Neil says, already craning his neck for Andrew. “I don’t know?”

He finds him slumped in a massive beanbag chair with a bowl of popcorn, back to the wall and eyes lazily trailing over the room, content to watch rather than engage. Renee is indeed nearby and laughing at something Allison said, and Matt appears with a horde of hungry people that descend on the pizza boxes. Neil just about manages to save two slices and carries the spoils over to Andrew, who slides over on the beanbag chair to make room for Neil.

“Hi,” Neil says breathlessly, intensely aware that they’re pressed up against each other from shoulder to hip in order to both fit in the beanbag. “Thought you wanted to raid the bar.”

“I re-decided,” Andrew says casually, but his eyes drop down to Neil’s mouth like stones. Neil swallows and tries not to think of all the reasons why Andrew might not want to get drunk tonight, and holds up the plate.

“Pizza?”

Andrew’s tongue flicks out to lick his lips. Neil stares, mesmerised, then looks away awkwardly and grabs a slice of pizza. Andrew takes the other one and they sit in silence, munching on pizza and pretending to watch the dancers.

Matt and Dan come by periodically to supply them with food and grape soda and to try and coax them to join the fray. Neil goes to help them in the kitchen once or twice, but mostly he just wants to sit next to Andrew in peace and get used to being this close to him again. Andrew is only wearing a black Queen t-shirt but he’s still radiating heat, leaving burning comet trails along Neil’s skin wherever they touch. His studded belt digs into Neil’s side, uncomfortable but also not, and when Andrew gets too fed-up with Neil’s squirming he hooks an arm around his shoulders and pulls him closer with a huff.

“I’m glad you came,” Neil says, flustered, and Andrew feeds a handful of popcorn into Neil’s mouth to make him shut up. Neil fervently hopes no one is watching them right now and almost wants to laugh.

Andrew’s fingers are sticky from the popcorn. Neil doesn’t think before he turns his head and flicks a kiss against the pad of Andrew’s thumb. Their eyes meet, and slowly, Andrew presses his thumb back to Neil’s mouth, tracing it and leaving a warm smear of butter in his wake.

“Are you,” Neil stutters, “I mean, do you and Roland still—”

“Shh,” Andrew says. “Roland is irrelevant.”

“Okay. Because I really liked kissing you, that time. Uh, before everything went to shit.”

He feels hot and itchy, but he can see that Andrew’s neck is turning a lovely shade of pink, too.

“Shut up,” Andrew growls.

“What for?” Neil teases breathlessly. “You got any other plans for my mouth?”

Andrew cups his hand over Neil’s mouth contemplatively, then removes it and hooks two fingers into the collar of his shirt as if for safe-keeping.

“Maybe.”

The low, husky tone of his voice makes Neil’s stomach shiver with clumsy longing. He doesn’t know exactly what he wants, but he thinks they can probably figure it out together, if Andrew wants that too.

“How have you been, really?” Neil mumbles, tracking the way Andrew’s eyes flit from his collarbone to his mouth to his eyes and back down.

“Hasn’t Renee told you everything, since you hired her to babysit me and all?”

“I hired her to protect you and she kept me updated on your safety,” Neil says truthfully.

“There’s your answer, then.”

“That’s not what I meant.”

Andrew’s jaw clenches briefly and Neil reaches out to follow the line of tension with his finger. Andrew tugs on his collar until their foreheads touch and Neil can hear the click of his teeth as he tries to unstick the words.

“Things were bad, and then they got better,” Andrew says slowly, laboriously. “They still get bad sometimes.”

“Yeah,” Neil murmurs and swallows. “They do that.”

He thinks back to those first weeks at his uncle’s house, locked up in a room with the pain and horror of his injuries, the memories and the nightmares and the mounting terror that something might have happened to Andrew and the others. He still feels like that sometimes, but it’s starting to lose some of the power from those early days, and it doesn’t petrify him anymore the way it used to.

“I go to therapy,” Andrew says, unexpectedly.

“Oh, that’s, um, good,” Neil says dazedly, then hesitates. “ _Is_ it good?”

Andrew frowns.

“Yes and no. But more yes than no.”

“Good,” Neil repeats again. Renee had given him some tapes on meditation techniques before she left for the States, but they’d only made Neil feel worse; restless and trapped in his own head, too aware of every single body part and every minor ache and discomfort. The breathing exercises helped a bit, as does going for long runs or working out at the gym, but that’s about as far as Neil’s been willing to go in terms of coping mechanisms. He is once again impressed by Andrew—opening up to a stranger can’t have been easy, especially for him.

“You’re amazing, you know that?” Neil murmurs.

“Shut up,” Andrew says again. “Will you stay at the house tonight?”

They’re still so close, and Neil wants to kiss him so badly, but he is content to just lean on Andrew for now and leave other things for when they’re not surrounded by their friends and a bunch of people they don’t know.

“Alright,” Neil says. “Yeah. I’ll stay.”

+

The house is quiet when they arrive. It’s not that late, but Aaron has a quiz tomorrow and is holed up in his room, either for frantic last-minute studying or because he went to bed early. Renee wanted to stay at the party a little longer, Katelyn is back on campus, and Popcorn seems to be out hunting.

Neil emerges from the bathroom in his sweatpants and one of Andrew’s old t-shirts, which Andrew had found in Neil’s duffel bag after he was gone but couldn’t bring himself to reclaim. He hesitates in the doorway to his room—Andrew’s noticed his reluctance to call it that, like he and Aaron are going to just kick him out in the street after Neil bought the entire fucking house for them.

“Idiot,” Andrew tells him and pushes him over the threshold.

Neil looks surprised when Andrew follows him inside, but he doesn’t protest, so Andrew sits down on the bed and turns on the damned string lights for lack of anything else. They should really get a lamp for this room, and some other furniture, too. Maybe then Neil will finally get it through his skull that it’s _his_.

Neil climbs on the bed and hovers on all fours, unsure where to go. Andrew scoots back against the wall and beckons him over, and somehow Neil ends up in his lap, a nice, warm weight that makes Andrew feel the opposite of claustrophobic. They gaze at each other, still getting used to the newness of each other’s company, and then Andrew takes one of Neil’s tightly clenched hands and moves it to his shoulder.

“I want to kiss you,” Neil whispers, like they haven’t been dancing around it all evening. Like they haven’t been dancing around it ever since Neil came back.

“What, no British gangster girlfriend or boyfriend?” Andrew jokes. The thought that there might have been anyone else for Neil sets off a hot, ugly flash of jealousy in his guts and Andrew quickly stamps it out.

“No,” Neil says, quashing the last bits of it for him. “It’s only ever been you, Andrew.”

Fuck. Fuck him, Andrew thinks viciously, fuck Neil Josten and his fucking mouth.

He kisses him instead, like Neil wanted him to. Neil still makes a surprised sound but pulls himself closer with his hands on Andrew’s shoulders, his whole body going pliant and shuddery in Andrew’s lap. It’s a good feeling, almost as good as kissing him again; headier than alcohol and dizzying like leaning over the railing of Renee’s tenth storey balcony and watching the glowing tip of his cigarette spin down to earth.

Andrew puts his hands on Neil’s thick thighs and feels the muscles work under his palms. His mind is coming up with all kinds of scenarios that involve Neil sitting in his lap and putting those muscles to good use, but it’s too much too soon. He wants to take his time, because they do have all the time in the world, now.

“Neil,” he sighs, in between smaller kisses. “Can I…”

“Yeah, yes,” Neil slurs without even thinking about it. Andrew pinches his thighs, then slides his hands up to the soft join of his hips and legs.

“I want to touch you,” Andrew murmurs, because clearly he has to spell it out for his idiot to tell him no. “Under your shirt. Yes or no?”

“Oh,” Neil says primly. “Yes, okay. If you want.”

Andrew watches him for signs of indecision, but Neil just gazes back steadily. His eyes look almost unreal in the dim light, like he’s a hallucination Andrew conjured up halfway between dreaming and being awake, except Neil’s body is so very warm and _alive_ under his hands. Slowly, Andrew inches one hand further up to the hem of his shirt and Neil still doesn’t stop him, Neil who’s never let him see the full extent of his scars before but who somehow trusts Andrew with this now.

“Andrew?”

“Still yes?” Andrew croaks out, his hand frozen on Neil’s hip. Neil huffs out a dry little laugh and squirms in his lap.

“Yes,” he says. “If I’d changed my mind in the last five minutes, I would’ve let you know.”

Andrew plucks at the fabric of Neil’s shirt and decides to keep it on for now. He pushes his hand underneath instead, a thrill running along his arm from his fingertips to his shoulder as he encounters hot, silky skin. Neil makes a breathy noise and Andrew can feel the full-body shudder that runs through him at the contact, but he grabs Andrew’s wrist and keeps it there when Andrew tries to withdraw.

“It’s fine, just… new,” Neil mumbles sheepishly. “You can keep going.”

He bites his lip self-consciously and Andrew has to swallow hard at the sight. He leans in to kiss him again, stroking his other hand up and down Neil’s thigh to ground himself, then allows his fingers to explore the ridge of a scar on Neil’s abdomen. From there, it’s a bit like painting by numbers—all he has to do is follow one scar and connect it to the next. There are so _many_. Some of them are thick and corded, some flat and smooth; sometimes it’s hard to tell where scar tissue ends and intact skin begins. Andrew’s thumb catches on a nipple and Neil jolts a tiny bit in his lap, and Andrew files that reaction away for later to examine and possibly recreate.

When Andrew is done with his torso, he smooths his fingers over the scars on Neil’s face. Neil is wearing some sort of make-up to make them look less obvious and Andrew carefully wipes it off, slowly excavating the real damage underneath.

“That woman, Lola,” Andrew says. “She did this?”

Neil nods and cups his hand over Andrew’s.

“She’s dead now.”

A part of Andrew wants to say _good_ , the rest of him wants to resurrect her just so he can kill her again, slowly and painfully. He traces the ruined skin under Neil’s eye, then leans in to place small, gentle kisses in each and every burn mark, thinking of colourful children’s Band-Aids and a boy who threw himself into a fight just to protect him years ago.

“Ah,” Neil says shakily, looking mussed and flustered and lost. “That… thanks.”

Andrew thinks about all the things he wants to do to him, all the things he wants to try and ask for and offer, but for now, kissing him some more is his number one priority, and Neil doesn’t complain.

+

Neil leaves the bathroom and nearly walks into Aaron.

It’s still early, the light a wrung-out grey, and Aaron looks like he just rolled out of bed. He has ink smudges on his face and his eyes look slightly frantic.

“Oh,” he says, deflating at the sight of Neil. “I was—Andrew’s room was empty…”

Neil feels his face heat and self-consciously tugs at the hem of his shirt. He wants to tell Aaron that Andrew is fine, but he doesn’t know how to do that without admitting that they both slept in Neil’s room. The awkward silence prowls restlessly between them until Aaron gestures at the bathroom.

“You done?”

Neil hurriedly steps aside and pads back to the bedroom, where Andrew has succeeded in wrapping all the blankets around himself like a hedgehog making a winter nest. Popcorn must have slipped in through the open door while Neil was gone, because she’s sprawled out over Neil’s pillow, watching him through eyes narrowed to slits like she’s challenging him to contest her spot.

It takes a few tries but Neil finally manages to wriggle himself into the blanket cocoon with Andrew and ends up pressed along his back. Andrew tenses up for a moment, peers at him over his shoulder and then pulls him closer until Neil drapes an arm over him and tucks it in against his chest.

“You’re so _strong_ ,” Neil mutters, gently prodding the muscles there. Andrew’s always been strong, but Renee must have really whipped him into shape, because Neil can’t stop admiring his pecs. Andrew merely grunts, which Neil takes as an invitation to go exploring. He smooths his hand over Andrew’s chest, digging his fingertips into the solid muscle and mapping out his ribcage. Then he entertains himself with Andrew’s broad shoulders and thick arms, tickling his fingers down until they can slide between Andrew’s and hold his hand. He nuzzles his face against Andrew’s back, inhaling his sleepy smell; then he realises he can tuck tiny kisses above Andrew’s collar and up his neck, and Andrew actually shivers at that.

“Why’re you not asleep,” Andrew grumbles. “It’s ass o’clock.”

Neil, for once, keeps his mouth shut and wisely doesn’t say that it must be because Andrew’s ass feels very nice where it’s pressed against him. He continues to kiss and suckle at Andrew’s neck, blows hot breath against the downy tufts of hair at the base of his skull and noses at the collar of his shirt, wishing it was gone.

“Neil,” Andrew growls.

“Mmmandrew,” Neil hums back. He hovers, half expecting Andrew to tell him to stop, but he doesn’t.

There’s a bang as Aaron slams the bathroom door shut on his way out, then loud footsteps on the stairs. Neil muffles an embarrassed laugh in Andrew’s shirt. It’s not like they haven’t shared a room with Aaron in the house before, and Aaron already thought they were doing _stuff_ before they’d even kissed, but somehow it’s still different now that it’s actually real.

Andrew sighs and his stomach moves under their joined hands. Neil contemplates leaving an obnoxiously wet and loud kiss on the back of his neck.

“Sleep,” Andrew mutters, as if he can read his mind.

“Can’t,” Neil whispers back. “You’re too distracting.”

“Then sleep on the floor.”

“No.”

For a moment Neil thinks he’s won, then Andrew suddenly rolls over and on top of him, pinning his hands down. He looks a bit like an angry dandelion, puffy-eyed and tousled, and Neil finds he enjoys being trapped under his weight.

Andrew kisses him—slowly, lazily, but with an intensity that makes Neil’s stomach scrunch up and smoulder like paper held to a flame. It reminds Neil of last night and the heat licks up his insides and sends shivers down his spine. Maybe, if Andrew is up for it, they could try some other things—

The weight is suddenly gone, and with it all the blankets. Neil’s eyes snap open and he splutters his protest at Andrew getting up from the bed.

“I’m going to sleep in my own room,” Andrew huffs.

Neil pouts, or at least tries to, but it doesn’t seem to be very effective. Once Andrew and the blankets are gone, he shoves his face into the pillows and sighs.

He’s waited for two years; he can wait a few more hours.

+

Eden’s is still the same pit of bad music and alcoholic despair as it’s always been. To Andrew it just feels like home these days, and he navigates the crowd with ease, helped along by his uniform. Neil looks a little overwhelmed the first time he comes back to the club to pick Andrew up after his shift, eyes constantly flicking back to the exits, so Andrew leads him to the staff area in the back, where he swaps his uniform for an equally black shirt and his work contacts for his glasses. Muffled music beats inside the walls like a heartbeat. Neil walks around restlessly, hands in his pockets, and Andrew snags him by his hood on his fifth circuit around the room.

“What?”

“Nothing,” Neil says, but his mouth twists sideways and he corrects himself to: “It’s not important.”

Andrew stares him down. Finally, Neil sighs and shakes his head, eyes flitting all over the walls like a trapped bird.

“You said Roland was irrelevant,” he mutters. “What exactly does that mean?”

“Roland and I had a mutually beneficial arrangement,” Andrew says. Neil’s gaze springs back to him, bright and sharp.

“Had?”

“Yes,” Andrew confirms. “Had.”

Neil licks his lips and nods.

“Alright. Okay.”

“Don’t be stupid,” Andrew tells him. Neil still _looks_ stupid, so Andrew tugs him closer until he can murmur in his ear. “It’s only ever been you. Idiot.”

Neil’s taut body relaxes against him. He tucks his face against Andrew’s shoulder and breathes out, and Andrew simply holds him for a while. He enjoys seeing his progress at the gym and getting to make use of his strength when sparring with Renee or lifting weights, but for the first time Andrew actually feels like his body is _just_ right; perfect for this one task of holding Neil up.

“Dance with me?”

The words fall out of his mouth before he can sanction them. It’s a dumb idea—he never used to dance when Neil was still around and he didn’t change that habit while Neil was gone. He’s just going to make a fool of himself, and he was looking forward to just going home with Neil like in the old times and having a cup of hot chocolate on the back porch before bed. Neil looks at him, just as surprised by the offer as he is, but he looks intrigued.

“Yeah, okay. If you want.”

Resigned to his own folly, Andrew leads him out and onto the dancefloor, not right into the thick of the crowd but somewhere on the outskirts of it. He pulls Neil close and they stand there for a moment, awkwardly frozen, until Neil’s body seems to remember that it used to like dancing once upon a time. Andrew shuffles along, feeling ridiculous and cumbersome, but Neil still lights up at the small concession and manages to loosen him up enough to move with him instead of by himself.

Andrew lets him have his fun for a while. Then he pulls him into a kiss, and suddenly it’s not so hard anymore to dance because all he has to do is gently rock his hips against Neil’s in a vague approximation of the current song’s beat. His fingers slip under the hem of Neil’s shirt, brushing hot skin and the different textures of his scars, and Neil shudders against him and deepens the kiss.

They emerge much later into the cool night air—early morning air, if Andrew’s being exact, but it’s still dark enough to count as night. He’s not above misappropriating the stock room to get Neil off, but he doesn’t think Neil would appreciate it, especially considering his earlier insecurity about Roland. So they go home, quiet and lost in each other, making out in the back seat of the bus with Neil’s legs thrown over Andrew’s lap and his hands pushing Andrew’s glasses up into his hair to save them from further harm.

“Thank you,” Neil murmurs against his lips. “For dancing with me.”

Andrew shrugs and mumbles a feeble joke about never taking him to prom, but Neil keeps looking at him, all serious and intense in the tacky light of the bus.

“You could have gone with Aaron and Katelyn.”

“But I didn’t.”

“Why?” Neil asks, playing with Andrew’s hair. “What happened that night?”

Andrew breathes out through his nose and checks that they’re not at their bus stop yet.

“I don’t really remember,” he admits. “According to Aaron, I got drunk and called him when they were on their way to prom, and he thought that I was going to kill myself or something, so they turned around and came back.”

He rolls his eyes and shrugs a little. The only real danger he’d been in that night had been in giving himself alcohol poisoning, he’s pretty sure of that, but if he’s completely honest he’s also uncomfortably grateful to Aaron for coming back. All he remembers is waking up with a colossal hangover the next morning, Katelyn asleep on the couch in her prom dress, makeup slightly smeared, and Aaron making coffee in the kitchen.

They never even blamed him for missing prom, which is maybe the part Andrew hates the most.

“I’m glad,” Neil says simply, linking their fingers together over his heart. “I’m glad you had someone to look out for you.”

Andrew kisses him silent again, and they end up missing their stop and have to walk back.

+

It’s the last day of March, and somehow everyone’s decided to celebrate Neil’s birthday almost three months late.

They’re having a garden party at the house, thanks in large part to Renee, Katelyn and a surprise visit from the twins’ cousin Nicky, which means there’s rainbow bunting everywhere and a giant bowl of non-alcoholic strawberry punch. Matt and Dan are swaying to Katelyn’s jazzy spring playlist, Sugar is trying desperately to make a very unamused Popcorn love him, Allison is mixing cocktails, and Renee is helping Katelyn and Nicky set up some sort of party game at one of the tables. Dan’s adopted brother Kevin cornered Neil after Dan mentioned that he was thinking of joining the track and field team at university in the fall and is droning on about the history of the Olympic games. Neil isn’t sure where the twins have disappeared to, but he’s fervently hoping Andrew will come back and rescue him soon, because his patience is starting to run a little thin.

Just as he thinks that, there’s the sound of a car pulling up in their driveway. Neil isn’t all that keen on even more guests—the garden is already starting to feel crowded—but the only people that round the corner are Andrew and Aaron.

Andrew beckons him over and Neil gladly takes the excuse to detach himself from a disappointed looking Kevin.

“Here,” Andrew says, shoving something in his hand. Neil feels the ridges and smooth body of a car key and his breath hitches a little in his throat.

“What is it?” he asks.

“A car, dumbass,” Aaron snorts, rolling his eyes. Neil wants to snark back at him but finds the words all dried up in his throat as he looks down at the key.

“I… for me? I can’t...”

“You gave us a house, remember?” Andrew asks, amused. “And we needed one anyway, so don’t flatter yourself.”

Neil closes his hand around the key and squeezes it. When he opens it again, the faint outline of the key’s teeth is traced into his skin.

“Thank you,” he says. “Both of you.”

“Don’t wreck it,” Aaron advises him before wandering off to join Katelyn and Nicky. Neil looks at Andrew, fighting the smile that wants to break out and failing, and Andrew pushes his face away with the palm of his hand.

“Don’t look at me like that.”

“Oh? That one of your new rules?”

“It’s a warning,” Andrew says, his hand dropping down to the collar of Neil’s shirt. He tugs at it, and Neil follows him out of the garden and around to the front of the house.

The car isn’t anything fancy, bought used but recently cleaned and in good shape. Neil climbs into the driver’s seat and has to take a moment to run his fingers along the steering wheel and make himself believe that this is his life now, that he can have this.

“Hey, Andrew,” he grins, holding up the key. “Want to come run away with me?”

Andrew slides wordlessly into the passenger seat and pulls out a plastic bag, filled to the brim with chocolate and granola bars. Neil laughs as he clicks his seatbelt shut and turns the key in the ignition.

“Where shall we go?”

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for sticking with me to the end! I'm [annawrites](https://annawrites.tumblr.com/) on Tumblr so come say hi if you want to chat about these dumb fictional characters :D


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